Goodbye, Goodbye
by xphile.1
Summary: Myrtle visits Fiona in the middle of the night to convince her to say goodbye to The Axeman. Rated M for femslash.


**A/N: Standard disclaimer applies; not my characters or my show. AU with Myrtle/Fiona pairing that can take place anytime after Fiona starts seeing The Axeman.**

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_**"You coulda warned me**_  
_**Knowing there was nothing I could do**_  
_**To change you" - 'Goodbye, Goodbye' by Tegan and Sara**_

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If there was one sound that grated most on Fiona Goode's nerves, it was the noise of snoring that resembled a lawn mower in the distance on a summer day. Currently, that very wretched sound was emanating from the slumbering body next to her.

In the semi-darkness of her room, illuminated by moonlight, she narrowed her eyes as she stared up at the ceiling, contemplating her options. If only there were some sort of spell she could recall to silence the awful noise. It was bad enough she had allowed the man, her lover, to stay the night in _her_ domain, and even worse still that she had blew off a dinner with Myrtle Snow to spend the evening with him.

Oh, Myrtle. One of her oldest, longest standing relationships, however tumultuous, was with the phoenix flame haired woman. In the last few days they had rekindled some sort of relationship, even after Fiona had sent Myrtle to the stake to burn. The truth was that Fiona found Myrtle's brazen attitude had reignited a part of her that she hadn't felt in so long. A part buried so deep that even the lover next to her couldn't reach it. And she _craved_ it. Fiona longed for any chance to verbally spar with and lay eyes upon the woman who didn't seem marred in the slightest after being repaired by the young swamp witch.

So what was she doing here now? With limited time left on this planet, she sought out the things that made her _feel_ alive. Sex. Alcohol. Drugs. Sometimes all at once. But the hardest part was afterward when it all came crashing down on her that Myrtle may have been right. She'd die alone. Perhaps that's why she let him in as far as she did. It still wasn't enough, though. It was only when she spent those brief moments with Myrtle that she felt complete. The shared looks and laughter with the underlying current of _something more. _

And Myrtle knew it. She had asked Fiona time and time again to stop seeing him, to consider spending the rest of her days with seeking a cure for her disease, _to be with_ _her_. Each request was met with an excuse. Fiona withdrew and changed the topic of conversation - anything to keep the wall up and Myrtle out. Little did the Supreme know, Myrtle was not one to give up easily. She knew the truth about Fiona; it was just a matter of getting Fiona to see it herself.

The stifled gasp for air and slight cough drew Fiona's attention to the man's gaping mouth, and she fought the urge to smother a pillow over his face as he started to snore again with even greater gusto. She ran a palm over her face and let out an exasperated sigh. _Jesus Christ, as if having cancer wasn't bad enough__, I'm being tortured for the last weeks of my life with this shit_.

A soft touch of fingertips on her bare knee that had escaped the satin sheets startled her to the point of nearly sitting up straight on the bed, but she calmed considerably seeing the familiar outline of Myrtle in the darkness. Fiona gave her a crooked smile and whispered. "Hey...sorry about dinner."

Myrtle held her index finger to her lips as an indication for Fiona to be quiet, but responded in a soft whisper as she glanced over to the man sleeping beside her. "Well, I'm positively _starving_ now and it's all _your_ fault, Fiona." The redhead gave Fiona a mischievous smirk as she pulled the sheet off the woman's legs just enough so she could climb onto the bed beside her.

Watching with wide eyes as she laid on her back, propped up with a pillow, and periodically glancing to the man next to her, Fiona was nothing less than floored at what was happening. Yet, she couldn't bring herself to do much of anything as much as her brain told her to stop the redhead from making a potentially deadly mistake. _Has this witch gone mad? Did the flames incinerate her last shreds of sanity? He could wake up at any moment and that would be the end of us. _Soon, Fiona's mind couldn't comprehend anything aside from the featherlight touches of Myrtle's slender fingers drifting along her thighs.

Kneeling in front of Fiona, Myrtle placed her hands on Fiona's knees and pressed them apart gently as she sunk lower to the bed. She bowed her head, a fitting gesture to the Supreme, and dabbed her lips along the inside of her right thigh. Eventually, Myrtle laid flat on her belly, and her lips had traveled even lower. _Of course_, Fiona wouldn't have worn any undergarments, she thought with an annoyed twitch of her lips. Still, her desire to devour the blonde ran rampant and she continued to press her lips against the woman's inner thigh, dangerously close to her pelvic region.

The man next to Fiona, who was not afraid to wield an axe when the situation called for it, suddenly coughed in his sleep again and began to stir. Myrtle froze in her movements, and Fiona whipped the blankets over the redhead, pulling them up to her waist. Myrtle was hidden in darkness now, a mere telltale lump under the fabric. Fiona held her breath, watching as he rolled onto his side, facing away from her and the devious act taking place between her legs. She let out a controlled sigh, aiming to keep as silent as possible as she nudged her knee against the redhead.

Myrtle smirked._ The coast was clear. _Her tongue had stilled on Fiona's inner thigh and now began to swirl over her flesh toward her center. She wasn't surprised to feel smooth naked flesh as she ran her tongue flat over the mound; usually the first thing a woman did when entering a sexual relationship with a man was strip herself of the very symbol that marked her womanhood. It made Myrtle cringe inwardly, but she continued with a certain passion if only to show Fiona the blatant truth she seemed to be blind to.

Slowly, she slipped both arms under Fiona's legs so that she could wrap her hands up around the woman's hips to keep her still. A precaution of sorts as she began to swipe her tongue up and down the soft folds, moistening them, and every so often slipping the tip of her tongue between the folds to taste her center. It was a sweet salty flavor, not exactly the way she wanted to first taste the Supreme, but time was running out and she needed to _show_ her what she meant to her before the deranged ghost man tried to schmooze his way into her life permanently. _  
_

Secrets from the flames, indeed. Passion and resilience were two that Myrtle seemed to receive a generous depth for as she continued stroking her tongue along the slit of Fiona's entrance. She could feel the Supreme's breath hitch every so often and felt the blankets grow taut over her head as Fiona tightened her hold on them. A sole finger slid into Fiona's entrance and emerged with a slippery coating. Another sign that Myrtle's resilient tongue was doing it's job. It struck her as ironic that she was trying to coax the truth from Fiona with her tongue, being the guardian of truth. If anything, it made her more determined as she used the same finger to push aside the top of the wet folds to swirl her tongue near the tiny bundle of nerves that would soon draw Fiona's release.

As Myrtle flicked her tongue several times over the sensitive spot, Fiona let go of the blankets to ease her hands beneath them, fingers entwining in the wild tresses on Myrtle's head. The things this woman was doing to her mirrored the same act the man had done earlier, but it was _different_. Myrtle's cheek was soft against her flesh, there was no harsh stubble scratching her. And while the man had been rough and insistent, Myrtle was caressing her lovingly with her tongue as if that were her sole purpose in life. Yes, this was a _hundred_ times _better_. With a gentle insistence, Fiona tugged Myrtle's hair, and then pressed the woman's head into her pelvis. It was absolute torture - albeit more pleasurable torture than listening to the unnerving snore - and she couldn't take it. She so badly wanted to thrust herself upward to Myrtle's mouth repetitively, but couldn't risk waking the man next to her, and so she settled for holding the redhead firmly against her as she lapped from her soaked center.

The feeling of Fiona's hands on her scalp and pressure of being held there to finish the job nearly drove Myrtle to act even more irrationally. She dug her nails on her left hand into the blonde's hip bone, finding it hard to put the image out of her mind of Fiona sitting on her face so she could rock back and forth. No, this would have to do...she didn't want to encounter the axe murderer in this state, so she continued to roll her tongue against Fiona's clit, at times doing it languidly to tease her, and then increasing the firmness and speed to drive her closer to climax. When she felt the woman tense, she'd stop abruptly and lick the folds that were dripping, giving her a moment to calm down. She knew it made Fiona furious as she felt her pull her hair sharply. Still, Myrtle would wait a few calculated seconds and then went back to pressing her warm tongue to her clit to lap at it as if it were an ice cream cone. _A _ _supreme ice cream cone_, she thought with a smirk. Finally rewarding Fiona for her patience and silence, Myrtle pressed her lips over her clitoral area to suckle gently, trying to bring her to the edge once more, this time letting her leap into ecstasy.

A sharp intake of air was all Myrtle heard as Fiona clutched fistfuls of her crimped red hair, her hips pushing upward ever so slightly as she bent her legs at the knee. Not a single sound exited the Supreme aside from her ragged breathing. She held Myrtle's head between her legs, her thighs clenching against the sides of her face. For a moment, neither moved.

Another snort interrupted the man's snoring that droned on in the background; a sound that Fiona had gladly tuned out as the redhead pleasantly distracted her. She held back a chuckle and slid her hands from Myrtle's hair to her hands, tugging them gently. She _needed_ to see her.

Myrtle snaked her body over Fiona's under the blanket, leaving soft kisses as if she were taking inventory - on her thigh, her stomach, her abdomen, her ribcage, her breast and then finally her collarbone. She rested on the blonde, careful not to leave all her weight on her. "Will you tell him goodbye now? We can go to Paris, darling. They have the most delightful cafés," Myrtle whispered into Fiona's ear, reaching up to tuck a strand of silky blonde hair behind her ear.

Allowing Myrtle to see one of her rarest smiles, Fiona gazed up at her in the moonlit room, canting her head to the side. "Paris?" She whispers the question and then rolls her eyes as another rolling snore breaks the silence. "As long as you promise to never snore...I'll board a plane with you tomorrow." Lifting her head slightly, she urgently pressed her lips to the redhead's, tasting the unique flavor of what Myrtle had urged from her center.

Returning the kiss with matched fervor, Myrtle squeezed her hands on Fiona's waist. "I'll go pack," she whispered after pulling away, smirking slightly. She didn't want to leave quite yet, though. Resting her forehead on Fiona's, she touched their lips together once more, enjoying the newness of the freedom of being able to do such a thing. "The finest wines and the fashion, oh, the fashion, darling. I can't wait!" she exclaimed in a whisper.

"You sound like you're about to have an orgasm, Myr," Fiona whispered throatily with a smirk. "It's rather...endearing." Tilting her chin up, she captured Myrtle's mouth in another kiss with less haste, taking her time to learn the outline of her lips, and the taste of her tongue.

With a slight shake of her head, Myrtle smiled as she pulled back from the kiss, looking into Fiona's eyes. "I'll let you say goodbye." A touch of her lips to Fiona's forehead was given as she pushed herself off the bed with stealth. "See you in the morning, slim," she whispered as she blew a kiss to Fiona with an outstretched palm. The redheaded witch crept out of the room, her bare feet carrying her away without a sound.

Fiona exhaled slowly with a smile on her lips and then rolled onto her stomach, burying her face into her pillow. The goodbye could wait until morning; for now she wanted to replay the last few moments over and over in her mind, obnoxious snoring or not. The smile didn't seem to fade a bit as she clutched the pillow to herself in preparation for an amazing dream starring a certain redhead.


End file.
